My One and Only
by Lion of Gryffindor
Summary: COMPLETE! Mainly Post Hogwarts Fic. Harry knows who he is meant to be with. Unfortunately, she's currently with his best friend. Please R&R.
1. The One He Can't Have

My One and Only  
  
A FanFic by the Lion of Gryffindor  
  
A/N: Here is a little side project I'm working on. For those who are enjoying "The Heir of the Lion", don't worry, that story is still my main priority. I just had some creative juices flow last night while I was half asleep and I had to put them in a story. Please read and review. Anyway, on with the program.  
  
*Look at her. Its like she gets more beautiful each day that see her. Look at her with him. Why can't she be that way with me? I know its not Ron's fault. He never knew about my feelings; I never told him. I was afraid to. And I never expected him to pick up on them. Ron just doesn't do that. But never in a million years did I expect the two of them to get together. * Harry sighed as these thoughts ran through his head for the millionth time in the past ten minutes. He was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, trying to study for his N.E.W.T.S that he would be taking in just a few months time. However, any thoughts of studying were quickly washed away when Hermione and Ron joined him. His two best friends. He loved them both, but in completely different ways. Ron would always be his best friend. He knew that he could count on Ron, even when they were in the middle of a huge row; Ron would always come around in the end. Hermione, well where did Harry start. She was smart, beautiful, loyal, the list goes on and on. She had always been there for Harry, and he knew beyond anything else, that she always would. When other girls would have run screaming, Hermione screwed up her courage and stayed by Harry's side no matter what the consequences could be. She was there, earlier in the year, when Harry faced Voldemort for the final time. It was her that distracted the Dark Lord long enough for Harry to stun him into the very same veil that claimed Sirius. Harry could honestly say, though he could not tell anyone, that he loved Hermione the way he was sure that his dad loved his mum.  
  
He could tell no one this, of course. He lost his chance with Hermione a month and a half ago when Ron asked her to be his girlfriend. She accepted rather excitedly. When they told Harry, he smiled and told them he was happy for them. That night was the first night in his life, despite all of the hardships thrown his way, that Harry actually cried himself to sleep. At first he felt betrayed, but he knew that it was neither Ron's nor Hermione's fault. Had Harry told Hermione about his feelings before, he may have been her boyfriend, not Ron. Seeing the two of them together made Harry feel lonely.  
  
Not that he didn't have girls throwing themselves at him. He was Harry Potter, after all. "The boy who lived", "The Conqueror of the Dark Lord"; Harry had so many nicknames now that he lost count of them. It seemed that almost every witch in Hogwarts wanted to be with him. Even Cho Chang begged Harry for a second chance. Unfortunately, Harry knew that they wanted to be with the legend, not the person. Hermione was the only girl who knew the actual Harry Potter. She's the only one who ever cared to know the actual Harry Potter, and Harry loved her even more for this.  
  
*I have to tell her. I can't keep these emotions bottled up inside. * Harry thought while watching them. He had to, not to damage her relationship with Ron, but because he felt he would explode if he didn't. Harry stood abruptly and started to put away his things.  
  
"Harry, are you okay?" asked Hermione.  
  
"No, not really. I," Harry felt his courage leaving him. He screwed it up as much as he could and said, "Hermione, could I talk to you in private?" Ron looked put out. "Sorry, Ron, it really is something that I can only discuss with Hermione." Ron nodded. He knew that if it was important enough, he would eventually find out from either of the two of them.  
  
Hermione stood and led Harry to her private study. She was Head Girl, and with that title came certain privileges, and privacy was one of them. She sat on a chaise lounge while Harry turned the chair at her desk around to face her.  
  
"What's bothering you, Harry?" she asked. She was always so perceptive, especially when it came to him.  
  
"There's something I need to tell you. Something I actually should have told you a long time ago, but I never thought it appropriate. Now is probably the worst and most inappropriate times to tell you, but I have to get it out or I feel that I'll burst."  
  
"What is it, Harry?" she questioned leaning forward to grab his hands. "You can tell me anything, you know that."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Tears were beginning to well, and Harry silently cursed himself for it. He didn't want her to see him cry. He closed his eyes and forced them down. He then swallowed the overly large lump in his throat and began to lay it all out. "I love you, Hermione."  
  
"I know, Harry. I love you too."  
  
"No," he said. "I mean I love you. When I look at you, I loose all train of thought. When you smile at me, my heart flutters like a snitch. When you talk, its like the angels singing." Comprehension began to dawn on Hermione's face. "I know that you're with Ron, and I don't expect anything more from you than you've already given. I just wanted to tell you because it tears me up inside everyday."  
  
"Oh, Harry!" she sighed. This was not what she expected. So this is why he never accepted the invitation of any girl, he wanted her. "I'm sorry, Harry. I am with Ron, and I don't know if I love Ron, but I do care about him. I wish that I could return your feelings, but I can't."  
  
"I understand," he muttered. "I don't want this to change our relationship. I still want to be friends with both you and Ron."  
  
"Don't worry, Harry. You and I will always be friends." Then, out of curiosity, she asked, "How long have you had these feelings?"  
  
"Since second year. After you were attacked by the basilisk, I would sneak into the Hospital Wing and spend the entire night by your side, holding your hand. It was in those moments that I realized I couldn't live without you. I was just too afraid to hurt our friendship." The tears came back, and this time Harry couldn't hold them down. He tried to get up and leave, but Hermione grabbed his arm from behind and he turned to look at her. She reached up and wiped away his tears. Then she stood on her toes, and kissed Harry on his lips. Harry almost passed out from the emotional release this caused. Tears continued to stream down both of their faces. When the kiss was over, Hermione wiped her tears away and looked at Harry's beautiful green eyes. She could see the hurt and confusion in them.  
  
"Thank you, Harry, for caring about me the way you do." That was all she could think to say. Harry smiled and nodded. He turned around and left the room. He looked over at Ron who was still sitting by the fire and nodded. He turned up the staircase to his bed. He needed to be alone. He was emotionally torn apart. He knew that Hermione was the only woman he would ever truly love. The kiss they just shared reiterated that fact to him. But he also knew that Hermione had chosen Ron over Harry. Not because She loved Ron more than Harry so much as because of Ron's impeccable timing. He had to reevaluate his life at this point. He knew that he had to get over Hermione, but he also knew that it would be nearly impossible. He had to try somehow. Then, it hit him. He got up, went to the bathroom to wash his face of any signs that he had been crying. He then changed into his new clothes that he picked up in Diagon Alley earlier that year. He put on his finest cloak and left the dormitory in a hurry. When he got downstairs, he saw Ron and Hermione out of the corner of his eye, but didn't look at them fully. They tried to get his attention, but he climbed out of the portrait hole pretending not to hear them. 


	2. Finishing School

Chapter 2- Finishing School  
  
Harry searched through the corridors, but couldn't find who he was looking for. He had just told Hermione that he loved her, and she said that she didn't return his feelings. He knew that this would be the answer, but knowing that didn't make it hurt any less. He made his way out of the castle and down to the lake. He moved to his spot, the place he went to when he needed to think and wanted to be alone.  
  
"Why did I do that? I'm such an idiot!" Harry spent the next few minutes cursing himself, sometimes out loud, sometimes just in his head.  
  
"How are you going to get yourself out of this one, Potter?" he asked himself.  
  
* I need to go on a date. I have to do something to get Hermione off of  
my mind. *  
  
He thought this over and over. Finally, after a few hours, he decided to go back to his dormitory, it was almost curfew and he really didn't have time to waste in detention with N.E.W.T.S. coming up soon. As he crawled back into the common room, he saw Hermione sitting by the fire. He tried to sneak around where she couldn't see him, but he failed.  
  
"Harry, can we talk?"  
  
"I thought we already did."  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry."  
  
"Don't be." And with that, he bolted up the stairs two at a time before Hermione could say anything else.  
  
~~~  
  
The weeks past, and Harry had a few girlfriends, but nothing serious. He dated a 6th year from Hufflepuff for a week, but he just didn't like to be around her. He also went on a date with Padma Patil, but it was just one date. The one that confused the whole school was his date with Pansy Parkinson. It was only one date, and he did it to get to Hermione (which it actually worked, much to Harry's delight), but the entire student body was dismayed by it.  
  
N.E.W.T.S. came and went. The 7th years grades were expected today. They came sooner than O.W.L.S. grades because the 7th years needed to know if they were going to be able to graduate. Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast with his two friends, Ron and Hermione. She kept her promise; they remained best of friends, like nothing happened. Inside, Harry died anytime he saw the two of them kissing or holding hands or any of the other things couples do. Harry didn't want to think of that. Luckily, the post owls broke his train of thought. Every 7th year received a letter from the examination board. Harry opened his to see that he passed with an outstanding in every subject. He had been accepted into auror training. At this, Harry sneered. He lost the desire to be an auror when Voldemort was defeated. He spent his entire time at school training for this opportunity. Tomorrow he was going to graduate, and he'd been accepted into auror training. It was exactly what he wanted just a few short years ago. None of it mattered now.  
  
"I got an outstanding in everything. I've been invited to work for the ministry in their Office of Magical Research and Experimentation," said Hermione, as giddy as they've ever seen her. "How did you do, Ron?"  
  
"I passed, mostly. I've been invited to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office with dad," Ron groaned.  
  
"How about you, Harry?" Hermione asked.  
  
Before Harry could answer, he looked up to see another owl with a letter addressed to him. He removed the letter and looked at the writing.  
  
"Whose it from?" asked Ron.  
  
"I don't know. I don't recognize the writing."  
  
Harry opened the letter and read it to himself. A huge grin began to form on his face. He shook is head and reread it to himself.  
  
"What is it?" Ron asked. Harry just handed him the letter and he read it out loud.  
  
"Dear Mr. Potter:  
  
It is with great pride that I, Antoine Bartoli, invite you to join the Quidditch Club de Milan of the Serie A Quidditch League in Italy. This is the highest league in Italian Quidditch. We are in need of a skilled seeker, and we have seen you play throughout your last term at Hogwarts and have heard of your many successful prior seasons. We will provide living arrangements in Milan as well as a salary that will be decided upon tonight in the Headmaster's office. I will be there promptly after dinner this evening. Until then, have a good day and congratulations on graduation from Hogwarts.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Antoine Bartoli General Manager Quidditch Club de Milan"  
  
"Bloody hell, Harry, you're going to play professional quidditch in Italy. I hear their league is one of the toughest in the world. You have to be really good to play in that league," Seamus said in awe.  
  
Harry just laughed. He didn't want to be an auror, and now he didn't have to be one. Also, time in Italy might help him get over Hermione. He glanced at his two friends. Ron was reading the letter again in disbelief, a look of confusion and jealousy clearly dominating is facial features. Hermione just looked at her plate like it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. Harry grabbed the letter from Ron, folded it along with his N.E.W.T.S. grades and placed them in his pocket. He then stood up and left without a word, but with a huge grin on his face.  
  
~~~  
  
Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry was going to Italy to play professional quidditch. She was going to be in London with Ron, but Harry was going to be in Milan, Italy. It seemed like an entire world away. She had to fight back the tears. She knew she should be happy for Harry, and she couldn't explain the sudden fit of sadness and depression at this news. She loved Ron, or at least she thought she did. However, she couldn't help but wish Ron were the one going to Italy and Harry was staying with her. Why she felt this way, she didn't know.  
  
"Bloody Git!" exclaimed Ron.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, truly confused by Ron's statement.  
  
"Why does Harry always get everything? He inherits a bloody fortune from both the Potter and Black families, he has girls throw themselves at him and almost worship the ground he walks on, he makes great grades in classes and on exams, he gets to go play professional quidditch in Italy while I'm stuck in London with. . ." but he never got to finish.  
  
"Stuck in London with what? Me? And what's wrong with that. You should be happy you even got a job. And don't be jealous of Harry. You should never be jealous of Harry." Hermione was fuming.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because, there are some things that he's wanted that he's been denied. And judging by the way you're acting right now, he was wrongfully denied."  
  
Ron was genuinely confused at this statement. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Harry loves me, Ron. He told me so weeks ago. I chose you over him, even though he didn't ask me to choose, he didn't want to break us up. But I did, I chose you over Harry."  
  
Hermione stood and ran out of the Great Hall. She was looking for Harry. She had to beg him to stay. He wasn't in the common room, but she heard some rumbling upstairs in the boys' dormitory, so she ran up the stairs to find him. He was in his room, packing his trunk.  
  
"Hello, Hermione," he said without even looking up. It was now common knowledge that Harry was the most powerful wizard in England if not the world, he could tell who a person was just by the feeling of their magical aura.  
  
"Harry, I know I don't really have the right to ask you this, but please don't go. Please stay here with me and Ron," she pleaded to the raven- haired boy.  
  
"You're absolutely right, Hermione, you don't have a right to ask me that. This may sound selfish, but of all people in this castle right now, who do you think deserves happiness the most?"  
  
"You do," she said, staring at the floor.  
  
"Yes, I feel that after having to grow up at the ripe old age of eleven and being the savior of not only the entire wizarding world, but also the muggle world, I deserve to finally have a life of my own."  
  
"But Harry, you have a life here with us."  
  
Harry sighed. He walked up to Hermione and put his hands on her arms, looking deep into her chocolate eyes. "Give me a reason to stay," was all he said.  
  
Hermione looked into his eyes for as long as she could. Harry repeated himself.  
  
"Hermione, give me a reason to stay."  
  
"I. . .I can't. I can't tell you what you want to hear."  
  
Harry just sighed and nodded his head. With a wave of his hand, his trunk shut and locked. He then summoned his Firebolt, and left Hermione in the dormitory by herself.  
  
"I can't tell you that I love you," she muttered to herself, "even though I do."  
  
~~~  
  
Harry spent the rest of the day flying over the school grounds. This was his last evening as a student at Hogwarts. He'd wanted to spend it with his friends, but he felt that he would vomit if he saw Ron with Hermione right now. He stopped his broom over the quidditch pitch just in time for sunset; his last time to see it over the castle. This thought made him even sadder. He was excited about playing professional quidditch, but leaving his friends, no matter what grief they caused him recently, was depressing.  
  
When the sun finally set, he flew to the castle's entrance. It was just about dinnertime, and seeing as Harry skipped lunch, he was absolutely famished. He ran his Firebolt back to his room and placed it in his trunk. He then ran to the Great Hall for dinner. He ate in silence with Ron and Hermione. None of them looking at any of the others. Harry never thought his last dinner at Hogwarts would be like this. He finished his food hurriedly, and then made for the Headmaster's office. He gave the password and bound up the moving staircase. The door to the Headmaster's office was open already. Harry entered and noticed an older Italian man, about early fifties, with graying hair and a short, snubby nose. The man stood eagerly at the sight of Harry.  
  
"Harry, this is Mr. Bartoli, Mr. Bartoli, this is Harry Potter," said Dumbledore, shutting the door behind Harry. The Italian reached a hand out to Harry and spoke in a light Italian accent.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Please, call me Harry"  
  
"Such good manners for a young man. Shall we get down to business?" suggested Mr. Bartoli. "We want you to join the team immediately in mid season. You will join as the starting seeker. Our next game is a week from tomorrow, and we would like to have you in as many team practices as possible before then. As for pay, I have been instructed to give you just about whatever you want."  
  
"Well, sir," began Harry, "money really isn't an issue for me."  
  
"Ah, but it is for the club. How about we start you at a million galleons for the rest of this season, then we can reevaluate things during the off- season if you prove your worth."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. Money certainly wasn't an issue, but the kind of money Mr. Bartoli was talking sure didn't hurt either. "When can I leave?"  
  
"As soon as you want to, Harry," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Tonight?" asked Harry.  
  
Dumbledore smiled, "I thought you would say that. Here is your degree from the school, proving your completion of all necessary courses and demonstration of necessary skills. Your name will of course still be mentioned tomorrow during the ceremony. Good luck, Harry."  
  
Harry laughed as he took the folder from Dumbledore. He turned to Mr. Bartoli. "Can I meet you at the entrance to the Great Hall in half an hour so I can get my things and say my goodbyes?"  
  
"Certainly, Harry. Take as much time as you need."  
  
Harry left the Headmaster's office and took off at a run to Gryffindor tower. When he entered the common room, he saw Ron get up and walk toward him.  
  
"Congratulations, Harry. I'm really happy for you," he said truthfully.  
  
"Thanks, Ron. Come up to the dormitory with me."  
  
"Sure."  
  
They climbed the stairs to the 7th year boys' dormitory together. When they entered, Harry checked everything around his bed to make sure it was all packed. Ron looked confused.  
  
"When are you leaving?" he asked.  
  
"Right now," replied Harry.  
  
"NOW!!!??? What about graduation?"  
  
Harry handed Ron the folder with his degree.  
  
"Wow, Dumbledore is letting leave before graduation."  
  
Harry waved his wand, shrinking his trunk. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket. "Yeah, I make my first start for the team a week from tomorrow. Walk with me to the Great Hall?"  
  
"Of course, mate," smiled Ron. "Let me run downstairs and tell everyone you're leaving first."  
  
"Sure."  
  
As Ron left, Harry looked around his dormitory for one last time. Seven years of his life had been spent in this castle; much of that time was spent in this tower. Seven years. The best years of his life. Harry felt tears run down his cheek. H dried them away quickly as he heard Ron bound back up the stairs.  
  
"C'mon, mate, everyone's waiting to say goodbye."  
  
Harry smiled and followed Ron out of the dormitory, turning around for one last glance. They walked slowly down the stairs into the common room where all of Gryffindor House was waiting. As they emerged, the house began to applaud. Harry just smiled as he said goodbye to the people he had considered great friends for seven years. Seamus and Dean gave him enthusiastic handshakes, Neville nearly lifted him off the ground in a huge hug, Lavender and Parvati kissed him at least a hundred times. Finally, he came to the one person he was dreading to say 'goodbye' to. Hermione stood before him, as beautiful as she had ever been.  
  
"Leaving so soon?" she asked, tears visible in her brown eyes.  
  
"I have nothing here to stay for," Harry retorted.  
  
"What about me? What about Ron? Our friendship?"  
  
"We will always be best of friends, no matter how many miles are between us. Remember, I am always just a fireplace away." He gave her a warm, loving hug. She buried herself in his loving embrace. Ron never held her like this. She almost sighed in contentment until Harry brought her back to reality. "I'll owl you as soon as I'm settled in. You can visit me anytime, okay."  
  
"Okay. Bye, Harry."  
  
"Goodbye, Hermione," he said. He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "I love you."  
  
She smiled at him, and he turned and left with Ron. "I love you, too. Harry." Hermione ran up to her dormitory and wept. Harry was gone. She realized her feelings too late. She was too wrapped up in doing what was right and not hurting Ron that she ended up hurting both herself and Harry. She didn't know how to fix this.  
  
~~~  
  
Ron and Harry made their way slowly down the corridors toward the great hall. They talked about unimportant things the whole way like quidditch and what they were going to do without having to attend lessons or do homework. Finally, they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Mr. Bartoli was there waiting.  
  
"Ready, Harry?" he asked.  
  
"Can you give me just a few more minutes?"  
  
"Of course, I'll just be outside the castle entrance."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Harry turned to Ron.  
  
"Don't say goodbye to me, Harry," Ron blurted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just because you're going to be across Europe doesn't mean we won't be seeing each other soon. I plan on visiting you as often as possible."  
  
"And my door will always be open for you. I'll owl you as soon as I get settled in."  
  
"Good enough, Harry. Good luck. Give those Italians some British hell!"  
  
"I will."  
  
Harry hugged his best friend. Ron started to cry, but Harry didn't say anything about it.  
  
"See you, Ron."  
  
"Yeah, see you, Harry."  
  
Harry released the embrace and left the castle of Hogwarts, not knowing if he would ever see it again. 


	3. Moving On

A/N: Okay, back from holiday. Here is chapter 3. Thanks to my reviewers (Sarah, athenakitty, and dolphingirl79)  
  
Chapter 3: Moving On  
  
Graduation day was a bittersweet affair for all involved, but for Hermione Granger, the worst part was when Dumbledore mentioned Harry. He talked about Harry's service to Hogwarts as well as the entire wizarding community. Hermione found it hard not to cry during this part of the ceremony. Since he left, the day before graduation, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Harry. She knew that he would owl her and that she could visit him anytime, but Harry's leaving was symbolic. It meant that he was moving on past her. She almost thought that he didn't want to go, but she was so stubborn that she couldn't tell him the one thing that would make him stay, the one thing he wanted to hear, and the one thing (she knew now) that was more true than anything else: that she, Hermione Granger, loved him, Harry Potter. She had it backwards all along. She didn't love Ron, not more than a friend. She loved Harry. He was the one she wanted to give her heart to. And now he was gone. And what was worse, she was still Ron's girlfriend. That was one thing she would have to take care of, Harry gone or not. It wasn't fair to Ron to stay with him and be in love with Harry.  
  
Hermione was sitting across from Ron in the great hall, all of these thoughts flowing through her mind at one time. Ron was piling more breakfast food on his plate, muttering about not wanting to get hungry on the train home. Today they were leaving Hogwarts for the last time. Hermione didn't have to report to the Ministry for work for another two weeks, so she was going to spend some time with her parents, arrange a flat in London, and mostly think about Harry.  
  
An owl shrieked overhead signaling the morning post. Usually the last day sees very little post because the students will be home soon, so neither Hermione nor Ron bothered to look up. They were both caught completely unaware when a familiar snowy white owl landed on the table in front of them bearing two letters, one addressed to each of them.  
  
"Hey, Hedwig!" Hermione gasped, untying the letter addressed to her while Ron did the same to the letter on the owl's other leg. She opened the letter feverishly and read the words written by her best friend:  
  
***  
  
Dearest Hermione:  
  
Well, I'm all set up in Milan. I live in a nice house just outside of the town. It's going to take some adjusting. I'm attempting to learn Italian. . . stress on the word attempting. I just wanted to let you know that everything's fine here. I'm on the floo network, so if you ever want to visit, just hop in the fireplace and say "La Grazia" and you'll be in my living room. That's the name of my house. Also, I've included a schedule for the rest of the quidditch season so you'll know when I'm home. Well, that's all I have time for now, I need to get ready for practice. My first game is this weekend. Congratulations on graduating top of the class, you have no idea how proud of you I am.  
  
Love Always,  
  
Harry Potter  
  
P.S. I just want you to know, Hermione, that all I want is for you to be happy. I know that you've chosen Ron, and if that makes you happy, then I'll accept it. I have placed my feelings for you aside, and under no circumstances will they surface again. Thank you for being so understanding during the past school term.  
  
***  
  
Tears were running down her face. She had lost him. No, she had thrown him away. He came to her with his feelings, and she turned him away without even considering that maybe she did reciprocate. She had finally found who she wanted to live her life with, and she threw it all away.  
  
"Hermione, are you okay? What does your letter say?" Ron asked her concerned.  
  
"Just that he's all set up and plays this weekend," she said, trying to compose herself.  
  
"And you're crying because of that?"  
  
"I just miss him, that's all," she said.  
  
"Hermione, something's wrong, I know it. Tell me, I'll understand."  
  
She eyed Ron up and down, considering whether or not she should tell him.  
  
"How do you feel about me, Ron?"  
  
"What?" Ron asked, his face screwed up in confusion.  
  
"Since we've been dating, how have your feelings for me changed? Do you love me? Do you just like me still?"  
  
Ron still looked perplexed. "I don't know, you're just Hermione. Just Hermione."  
  
"That's what I thought," she said. "Ron, I have to be honest with you. I don't love you, not the way a woman should love someone she's dating. I don't love you as anything more than just a good friend."  
  
Ron looked surprised, but not hurt. "How long have you felt this way?"  
  
"For some time now. I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"Its okay, Hermione. I know you don't want to hurt me, and I just want you to be happy. To be honest, I really kind of feel the same way about you, I just didn't know how to tell you."  
  
Hermione screamed inwardly. If Ron had just said something sooner, then she could have been honest with Harry and he would have never left. She mentally shook her head; she couldn't blame this on Ron. After all, she was the one who lied to Harry.  
  
"Look, you and I are still best of friends. Nothing will ever change that," Ron said.  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"Of course. C'mon, its time to go to the train station."  
  
They walked together towards the train station in Hogsmeade arm in arm, talking about life after Hogwarts. Once they boarded the train and they were on their way back to King's Cross the conversation turned to their other friend.  
  
"Do you plan on going to see Harry?" Hermione asked Ron.  
  
"Of course, but probably not until I get my schedule lined up with work. I'll probably live at the Burrow for a while, but I don't want to stay there forever."  
  
"I'm going to be getting a flat in London. You could room with me if you want."  
  
"That would be great, Hermione. I'd have my own room of course?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
~~~  
  
At that very moment, Harry Potter was showering in the Q.C. (Quidditch Club) Milan locker room. It had been a grueling five-hour practice, but Harry was beginning to believe that he could make it in this league. Coach Alessandro seemed to like him. He was a tough coach, but it is a tough league. Harry understood this.  
  
He stepped out of the shower and dried off. His other teammates were at their respective lockers, changing into their street clothes. One of the chasers, Bianca, approached Harry. She was about five years older than him. He was the youngest person on the team, and she was the second youngest. Harry had the strange feeling that she liked him. Not that that was a problem, Bianca was a very nice Italian beauty. As tall as Harry with olive skin and dark hair that fell to the middle of her back, and her eyes were almost the color of pure gold. She spoke perfect English. In fact, she had to interpret anything the keeper, Ferruccio, said to Harry and vice versa.  
  
"So Harry, where are you headed?"  
  
"Back to my house, I guess," Harry said. It still felt weird to say 'my house.' In fact, adjusting to life in Italy was much harder than Harry had anticipated. He missed his Hogwarts, his friends, but especially Hermione.  
  
"Why don't you come with me and my friends? We are going to dinner and then dancing," said Bianca. "That is, unless you can't dance."  
  
Harry almost busted out laughing. The last time he tried to dance, he walked all over Parvati Patil's feet all night long. He looked at Bianca appraisingly, arguing with himself as to whether or not he should decline. Truth be it known, he was planning on going home and looking at photos of Hermione until he cried himself to sleep. Maybe a little distraction would do him good.  
  
"Who all will be going?" he asked.  
  
"I'll be there, of course," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. " So will Gisella, Anne and Claire."  
  
Gisella, Anne and Claire. Bianca's sister and their two French best friends. Harry has had the pleasure of meeting all three of them. They are just as beautiful as Bianca. . .almost. Harry sighed.  
  
"Come on, Harry. I've known you for almost a week, and you're always sad. When you aren't at practice, you're at home, pining over a girl who doesn't love you."  
  
Harry flinched at her words. She was right. All he did was practice quidditch and cry over Hermione. And Hermione didn't love Harry, not like he wanted her to. Even after writing her and telling her he put his feelings aside, he still longed for her. Not anymore. No, he needed to move on with his life. After all, Hermione has her own life now too, why shouldn't he finally have his. He was a young man. He never got to be a kid; Voldemort had taken that joy away from him. He'd be damned if he let Hermione take away what was left of his youth.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry. I just wanted for you to come and have fun," she said as she began to turn. Harry grabbed her arm.  
  
"No, I'll go, just let me change."  
  
"Great. Yeah, hurry up, we'll all be waiting for you outside of the locker room."  
  
Harry changed into the nicest clothes he had with him. He looked at himself in the mirror, which said, "Well, it'll have to do." He did a quick deodorant check, and finally grabbed his bag and exited the locker room. He walked out to find four of the most beautiful witches he'd ever seen waiting for him. Ron was right when he said it in their fourth year, they don't make them like this at Hogwarts.  
  
* Well, except for Hermione. *  
  
Harry mentally kicked himself. Why was he thinking of Hermione when he had four gorgeous witches taking him out to eat and dance? He knew why, but that was no longer an excuse for Harry. He had loved Hermione for years, but it wasn't going to happen.  
  
"'Ello, 'Arry," said Anne with a smile. "Bianca says zat you will be joining us tonight."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. Maybe getting Hermione off of his mind won't be that hard after all. If anyone can help him, it's the four women standing before him. Anne stood a head shorter than Harry. She had short hair as black as Harry's and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Her skin was pale and looked as fragile as porcelain.  
  
"Yes, I will be," Harry managed.  
  
"Good, I waz wondering when we would get to finally spend time with the man Bianca goes on and on about," said Claire. Claire was about an inch taller than Anne. She had blonde hair and her eyes were the color of the sky. Her tan skin fit perfectly over her body that, Harry noticed, curved in all the right places.  
  
"Can I aparate to my house before we go? I need to drop off my bag," Harry asked. Bianca's sister Gisella seemed aggravated by the delay, but she nodded her affirmation. She was almost identical to her sister, only slightly shorter. Harry left with a pop. The girls spent the next few minutes talking about him.  
  
"Hez much sexier than in ze piturez in my school books," Said Anne.  
  
"Yes, he is one fine specimen," said Bianca.  
  
"Well, Bianca, is he off limits to the three of us?" asked Gisella.  
  
"Tonight, I want Harry to have the time of his life. It is up to us to get his mind off of that English girl. Whoever Harry chooses to spend his time with is fine with me."  
  
Seconds after she finished saying this, Harry reappeared with the all to familiar noise of someone apparating. "Okay, I'm ready to go."  
  
~~~  
  
Dinner had gone well, and now Harry found himself sitting at a table in a trendy wizard disco. He was nursing a bottle of butterbeer, watching his four female companions out on the dance floor. They were dancing together to the loud club music pumping over the speakers. This was the first time Harry had ever been to a place like this. It made the Three Broomsticks look like the Hogs Head.  
  
Harry was constantly being asked by women to dance. He wasn't sure if they recognized him as "Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived," or "Harry Potter: New Seeker for Q.C. Milan." Either way, he had garnered himself a lot of attention from the female population upon entering the club. He politely declined each offer not wanting to be rude, but not really wanting to embarrass himself on the dance floor either.  
  
The song ended, and the four ladies returned to the table.  
  
"Harry, you aren't having any fun. Please dance with me," demanded Bianca.  
  
"You don't understand, I don't dance," Harry proclaimed over the new song that started.  
  
"Why not?" Asked Claire and Anne together.  
  
"Because I can't. I've only danced once in my life, and I think the poor girl still requires crutches to get around."  
  
All of the girls laughed except Bianca.  
  
"That is a load of crap. I've seen what you can do on a broom. Believe me, if you can do that, you can dance. Come on," she grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him onto the floor. She was much stronger than she looked.  
  
"Put your hands here," she told him, placing his hands on her hips. "Now look at my eyes, and just move to the beat. Less is always more."  
  
Harry did just as he was told. He moved with the beat slightly, never moving his eyes from hers. Slowly, he gained more confidence and snaked his arms all the way around her waist to pull her closer. The feel of her body rubbing against his sent feelings to areas of his body that he only felt when dreaming of being intimate with Hermione. He had to concentrate hard to keep something embarrassing from happening.  
  
As it turns out, Harry was quite good at dancing. He also enjoyed it very much. He danced with Bianca and her friends for hours. Finally, at four in the morning, Harry decided it was time to go home and get some sleep.  
  
"Okay, its time for me to turn in."  
  
"No, stay here wiz us," said Anne, trying to give Harry a sad face.  
  
"Nah, I'm tired, I think I'll just head home."  
  
"We'll go wiz you then," said Claire. This caught Harry off guard.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I think it's a good idea," said Bianca. "We'll go with you to your house. I want to see where the 'Famous Harry Potter' lives."  
  
With a pop, they all five appeared at La Grazia. The outside was a beautiful classic Italian villa, deep red and gold in color. It had large, oak double doors with an ornate crest on each panel. In the center of each crest was the head of a lion with doorknockers hanging from the mouth. Harry waved his wand and the doors swung open magically. They entered into a grand foyer with a gorgeous crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Harry showed them around to the different rooms, the library, and the den.  
  
"Does anyone want anything to drink?" he asked politely.  
  
"I would like ze butterbeer," said Claire.  
  
"Me too," said the rest of the girls in unison.  
  
Harry went to the kitchen and quickly returned, levitating four butterbeers in front of him while he took a sip from his own. Harry and the ladies sat and talked for an hour before Gisella started to yawn.  
  
"I've got to get some sleep soon, it's nearly seven a.m." she said.  
  
She stood and hugged Harry, thanking him for a good evening and then disapperated away.  
  
Anne and Claire both stood and did the same, leaving Harry and Bianca alone. Bianca stood and moved to the couch Harry was sitting on. She sat next to him and before Harry knew exactly what was happening, she leaned in and enveloped his lips with hers. Harry didn't know what to think. The kiss felt wonderful, but not perfect. Bianca was a phenomenal kisser, but something was missing. Bianca deepened her kiss, climbing on top of Harry and straddling him. Her lips were warm and inviting, yet still something was wrong. Then it hit Harry like a ton of bricks, Hermione. That's what was wrong, it wasn't Hermione. He could think of nothing he'd rather be doing right now, he just wanted it to be with Hermione. For all he knew, she was doing this very thing with Ron. That thought pained him.  
  
Bianca's tongue was now inside of Harry's mouth, setting off a fire below his belt that he didn't expect. He panicked, and pulled away from her.  
  
"Bianca, I'm not ready for anything like this."  
  
"Why? What's the matter?" she asked.  
  
"I've never done anything like this before."  
  
"You're a virgin?" she asked, surprised that the 'Famous Harry Potter' had never been bedded by a witch.  
  
"Yes," Harry muttered, hanging his head.  
  
"Harry, its okay. Its nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
He lifted his head to look at her. No, she wasn't Hermione, but Hermione was never going to be his. And, if he couldn't have Hermione, at least Bianca was by far the most beautiful witch other than Hermione he had ever seen.  
  
"What the hell," he said, more to himself than her. He pushed his face forward and initiated another fiery kiss. This one was just as passionate as the previous. Bianca pulled away and lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her breasts. They weren't small, but not large either. Of course, Harry didn't have anything to compare them to.  
  
"Take me to your bedroom," she told him in a heavy breath.  
  
Harry lifted her light frame and carried her up the marble staircase and into the master bedroom. Harry had decorated this room to look like the Gryffindor common room, only with a beautiful four-poster bed on the far wall. He set Bianca down gently on his bed and then removed his shirt. Bianca ran her hands up and down Harry's abs before attacking the button on his trousers.  
  
They made love until almost noon, then the slept in each other's arms for four more hours. When they woke at four in the afternoon, Harry cooked an almost gourmet meal for them. Over dinner they talked about the next days game. Harry was glad that Coach Alessandro gave them the day before each game off.  
  
They both decided that Bianca should go home that night so they would both get good nights sleep before the game. After she left, Harry sat on his couch in front of the fireplace in his den. He had finally spent an entire night (or in this case, day) without thinking of Hermione. Maybe coming to Italy was the best decision he had ever made. 


	4. The Truth Is

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been reading a few old fics by Ashwinder. If any of you are HP/GW fans, check out "Ginny's Gift" and its sequel "The Long Road Home." Good stuff. Also, dolphingirl79 has two good fics she's working on. You can find all four of the above stories under my favorites.  
  
Enough advertising, on with the reviewers:  
  
The Keymaker: Thanks for your faithful reviews on both of my stories.  
  
dolphingirl79: As always, thanks for your continued support. Now it's your turn to update.  
  
Lemmy Jr: I agree, I think Harry should be allowed to have a little fun now that he's of age.  
  
lanialle: I won't give away the ending, but I doubt you'll be disappointed if you keep reading.  
  
Rlupin1003: Thank you.  
  
Lymaris: Thank you.  
  
Ms. Halley Bom-Bally: You crack me up. Thank you for your kind words, but I am by no means a great writer. However, if you want to think so, please feel free to do that and tell me on a continual basis. I agree, I don't think JKR will pair Harry with Hermione. And I'm usually a Harry/Ginny fan, but this story just sort of came to me, so I'm writing it.  
  
roxy123: Thank you for reading; I'm glad you're enjoying the story (especially the detail). I hope I can keep the story up to your standards.  
  
Anyway, on with the story.  
  
Chapter 4: The Truth Is  
  
"Harry won again. So far I'd say those Italians don't know what hit them," Ron was saying as he perused Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet. He was sitting at a small breakfast table in their roomy London flat. Hermione was attempting to cook him breakfast. He had to be at the ministry in just over an hour, and she wanted to do this friendly gesture for him. Today was Friday, and she wouldn't have to report to the ministry until the following Monday.  
  
The Daily Prophet, along with many other British wizarding journals, had made a huge deal about following Harry's career. It seemed that they always had a reporter following the young seeker, chronicling his every move. Ron noticed how much this bothered Hermione. "Why don't they just leave him alone?" he would here her say every time she saw an article about him. Ever since they moved in together, Ron had been picking up signals from Hermione that her feelings for Harry were beyond that of mere friendship. He was slowly becoming sure that what she felt for Harry was what she thought she should have felt for him when they were dating. Then, last Saturday evening, he heard her quietly crying in their den. When he asked what was wrong, she just sat quietly, hoping he'd get the hint and go away. Ron persisted, and Hermione eventually gave in. She poured her whole soul out to him that night. Everything she had been thinking and feeling. All of her feelings for Harry, the thing he asked of her the day he left that she didn't have the courage to answer, her letters to him (even the ones she couldn't bring herself to send), her need to be with him. They stayed up that entire night talking. Ron tried to be the friend that she needed. He wasn't jealous at all, after all he and Hermione tried and it just didn't work out. No, he was just sad for his two friends.  
  
"Your eggs are ready, Ron," Hermione proclaimed, bringing Ron out of his memory. She brought his plate of eggs and sausage to the table and smiled gently at him.  
  
"Thank you, Hermione," he said as he pushed the Daily Prophet aside and reached for the new edition of the Quibbler.  
  
Hermione clucked her tongue. "Why do you even bother to read that rubbish?"  
  
"Hey, its not always rubbish. Remember Harry's story in our fifth year? That wasn't rubbish," he said as he glanced down. Noticing the cover, his heart began to race as he tried to find a place to hide it from view.  
  
Hermione turned and noticed Ron's hand retreating from under the placemat, a look of concentration and panic on his face. "What is it?" she asked.  
  
"What? Oh, nothing, just didn't want to read anymore," he answered too quickly.  
  
"Let me see, Ron," she demanded.  
  
"No, it's my magazine and I don't want you to read it."  
  
"There is obviously something in there that must be important."  
  
Ron grabbed the magazine and made to dash to his room, but before he could get two steps, Hermione had her wand raised.  
  
"Accio quibbler!"  
  
The magazine in question flew through the air towards Hermione. She didn't even have to open it to see what Ron didn't want her to see.  
  
"The Quibblers 'It' Couple of the Week: Harry Potter and Bianca Rosabella"  
  
There was a photograph of the two on the cover. They were sitting at a table in a restaurant. Harry's mouth would move in conversation and the other girl, Bianca, would laugh. Then Harry would reach forward and gently place a few strands of her hair behind her ear.  
  
Hermione's face crumpled in pain. He had truly moved on, like he said he would. Why hadn't he mentioned anything about this in his letters? She had received a few letters from him in the two weeks since he's been gone, but no mention of a girlfriend at all. She retreated to the comfort of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Crawling on her bed, she shoved her face into her pillow and sobbed out in pain. Was he doing this to her on purpose? No, he didn't know how she felt. She never told him. In fact, she told him the opposite of what she felt. She brought this pain upon herself, and that fact made it hurt even more.  
  
"Hermione, do you want to talk?" Ron called through the door.  
  
"No," she answered with a shaky voice. She cleared her throat and tried again. "No, Ron. I'll be fine. I just need a little time."  
  
"Okay, but if you need me today, don't hesitate to call me at the office."  
  
"I will."  
  
She heard Ron apparate away. How could Harry just stop loving her? If he loved her half as much as she did him, then there is no way he could be over her. She had to know for herself.  
  
"I have to go see him," she said to herself as she wiped her tears away. She rose to her feet and went to take a shower. The hot water felt good on her puffy face. When she was finished, she dressed in muggle jeans and loose blue top. After packing a few belongings and leaving Ron a note, she went to the fireplace and started a fire with her wand. She then took a pinch of floo powder and threw it in, causing the flames to turn green.  
  
"La Grazia!" she stepped in and shouted. Suddenly, she was flying through the floo network at a blinding speed.  
  
~~~  
  
"Was ein durch Ferrucio spart!" Harry heard the German announcer call over the crowd as Ferrucio made a spectacular save. This was Harry's third match as a professional quidditch player. So far, he was undefeated. This game was a little more difficult because he'd just played another game yesterday. This game was a friendly (exhibition) against Berlin. The German league was excited when they heard that Harry would be joining the team early enough to make the trip to Berlin for this game.  
  
The game itself had been going on for almost an hour and a half. Not once had he seen any sign of the snitch. What was worse, Berlin's seeker seemed to like to tail Harry very closely. He felt that if he were to stop suddenly, the other seeker would be permanently implanted onto his back. When was this match going to end? He just wanted to be back at La Grazia, away from the press and the public.  
  
Before Harry knew what was happening, the Berlin seeker shot past him like a rocket. He jolted his Firebolt after the other player, darting his eyes around for the snitch. There it was, off to his left. The other seeker was trying to feint him. Harry twisted his broom around, leaving the other seeker diving toward the ground. He shot off toward the snitch. It flew just a few feet in front of him, soaring toward the sky before diving down to the pitch below. Harry was gaining on it slowly. When it seemed like he wouldn't be able to pull up in time, he closed his fingers around the pesky golden ball, spinning and twisting to his right to keep from crashing. He landed on his feet in the middle of the pitch, hand held high.  
  
"Harry Potter fängt den snitch, Milan das Gegenstück gewinnt!" Harry heard the announcer scream. Many of the German fans looked dejected, but most cheered anyway.  
  
Back in the locker room, Harry was enjoying the feel of a hot shower raining down on him. The past few weeks have been nothing short of a whirlwind. He was happy to be in Italy, but he was confused by Bianca. He knew he didn't love her, there was no question. What he wanted to know was should he continue to see her even though he didn't. After all, Hermione was with Ron. She was never going to be his. He had to keep telling himself this; it was the only way he could keep away his feelings for her.  
  
Bianca was nice, but being with her just didn't feel right.  
  
*It feels good, * he thought, *but not right. *  
  
No, he needed time to think about things. He turned off the shower and dried off quickly before changing and exiting the shower area. Bianca was waiting for him by his locker.  
  
"Hey, Harry. Great catch out there," she said.  
  
"Thanks," he muttered.  
  
"You want to go out? I know of a few good clubs in Berlin," she said, smiling at him.  
  
"No thanks, I'm kind of tired, I think I'll just go home and call it a night."  
  
"Okay, I'll come with you."  
  
"No!" he said, a little more forcefully than he meant. "No, I really just want to be alone tonight. Please understand."  
  
Bianca looked very put out.  
  
"Fine!" she yelled and apparated away.  
  
Harry just sighed and shook his head. He gathered his things and apparated away from the locker room.  
  
~~~  
  
He appeared on the doorstep of La Grazia. It was dark in Milan. Harry wasn't quite ready to go inside yet, so he walked the short distance into town and enter a local muggle pub. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. He just sat at the bar and drank while watching football on the telly. He used to enjoy that sport as a child. Playing at school and watching snippets when he could at the Dursleys'. When he discovered quidditch, he initially lost all interest in football. However, recently he was beginning to appreciate the sport again.  
  
He finished his beer and ordered one more. He wasn't going to get piss drunk tonight, he just thinks better with a few in him. The sports channel was now showing scores from the English League. Harry watched for the team he supported as a child.  
  
"Hey," he said where only he could hear. "What do you know, Fulham pulled out a win over Arsenal." Harry smiled. That didn't happen often.  
  
Harry paid the bartender for the beer in European muggle money; he always kept some on him just in case. He slowly made the trek back to La Grazia.  
  
"Why can't I get you out of my mind, Hermione? Why? Why do you haunt me day and night? Why do you invade my dreams? Why won't you just leave me alone?"  
  
These questions just seemed to flow out of him while he walked. He was truly perplexed by these things. Would he ever get over Hermione?  
  
"Just stop!" he told himself. "It's not like your going to open the door to your house and Hermione's going to be there waiting for you."  
  
Finally, he arrived at the entrance to La Grazia. He waved his wand, opening the door. When he entered, he could see a light from a fire in the fireplace dimly lighting the living room. He shut the door and progressed slowly, wand held at the ready. As he swiftly entered the den, he noticed a mound of familiar curly brown hair hanging from the edge of the couch.  
  
"Hermione!" he said quietly. She didn't stir. "She must be asleep." He lowered his wand and set his bag down. Walking quietly, he knelt down by the couch, staring at her peaceful face. Harry raised his hand and gently caressed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered a little before opening and taking in the man kneeling down before her.  
  
"Harry," she said.  
  
"Hermione, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to see you," she said, her eyes never straying away from his.  
  
"Where's Ron?"  
  
"He's in London."  
  
"His mum said you two were living together."  
  
"Harry, I need to talk to you about some things."  
  
Harry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not now, Hermione. You're here, that's all that matters right now."  
  
He bent down and hugged his love. She relished in his embrace as he did in hers. The moment was perfect.  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
"I haven't eaten all day," she said.  
  
"C'mon, let me make you some supper."  
  
They both went to the kitchen where Harry began to make pots dance as he used his wand to prepare a delicious pasta dinner for two. He soon had everything cooked the table set with candlelight and everything.  
  
*Being a little obvious, are we? * he asked himself.  
  
When everything was prepared, they sat down together and ate and talked about what they had been up to since parting. Harry didn't mention Bianca to Hermione; he didn't see the need to.  
  
"So, Harry, have you learned any Italian yet?"  
  
"A little bit."  
  
"Tell me something it Italian."  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Please, Harry, for me."  
  
"Okay. Lei sono le donne più belle mai ho collocato di occhi su."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"You have pretty eyes," Harry lied. What he said was that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on (in very broken Italian).  
  
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione blushed.  
  
They continued to eat and talk for quite a while before Hermione looked at Harry with a mixture of anxiousness and fear. Before she could say anything, Harry cut her off.  
  
"So, how are you and Ron doing?" he asked.  
  
"We aren't," was her reply.  
  
"What do you mean, Hermione?"  
  
"We broke up the day we left Hogwarts."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Because I don't love him, not like that."  
  
Harry wanted to throw something. He had come to Hermione with his feelings, and she turned him away for nothing.  
  
"Do you remember, a few months ago, when you told me about your feelings?" Hermione continued.  
  
Harry visibly stiffened. "Yes."  
  
"Well, things have happened since then, things that I can't explain. But the truth is, Harry. . ." she trailed off.  
  
"What is it Hermione?"  
  
Hermione steeled herself, gathering all of the Gryffindor courage she could muster. "The truth is, Harry, that I love you."  
  
Silence surrounded the pair. Harry could do nothing but stare straight into Hermione's eyes. Why was Ron's timing so good and Hermione's so bad? Why couldn't she have told him this weeks ago, when he was still at Hogwarts?  
  
"Hermione, I don't know what to say."  
  
"Do you still love me?"  
  
"Yes, of course I do, but things have changed. Our situation is no longer simple."  
  
"Do you love her?"  
  
Harry flinched. How did Hermione know about Bianca?  
  
She must have read his mind, because she quickly said, "I saw a picture of you two in a magazine. Apparently you are the Quibbler's new 'It Couple.'"  
  
"No, Hermione, I don't love her."  
  
"Then why are you with her?"  
  
"Because I thought you were with Ron. I thought you loved Ron. All I know is that you told me you didn't love me. I was trying to move on."  
  
"I'm sorry for lying to you, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you about my feelings. I got too caught up in trying to do the right thing, and I let the right thing slip away from me in the process. Can you please forgive me?"  
  
"Of course," Harry replied softly, placing his hand on hers. "My house isn't called 'La Grazia' for nothing."  
  
Suddenly a new voice made its presence known from the den.  
  
"Harry, I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I wanted to surprise you."  
  
Harry turned to see Bianca walking through the kitchen door wearing a very thin, lacy teddy.  
  
"Who the hell is this?" she asked  
  
"Erm. . . Bianca, this is my friend Hermione. Hermione this is Bianca," he said as he thought to himself:  
  
* This is going to be a long night. *  
  
A/N: This fic will probably be wrapped up in the next chapter or two. It was never meant to be a long story. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. 


	5. Reconciliation

A/N: Okay, Okay so it's been almost a month since I updated this story. If you look back to chapter one, I did mention that this story would not be my main priority. Sorry, didn't mean to turn into Professor Snape there. Anyway, sorry for the delay in updating.  
  
Thanks to my vast sea of reviewers (dolphingirl79, The Keymaker, Little Rose, and athenakitty)  
  
On with the story...  
  
Chapter 5- Reconciliation  
  
"So this is the 'infamous Hermione,'" said Bianca coldly. "And what, exactly is the infamous Hermione doing in your house when you specifically told me, your GIRLFRIEND, that you wanted to be alone tonight?"  
  
"First off sit down," Harry began. Bianca looked outraged and yet surprised at Harry's directness. She grudgingly obliged. "Good. Secondly," he was pacing back and forth in front of the table the two women were seated at, "Hermione was here when I arrived from Germany. Its not like I planned a secret midnight rendezvous." Harry was furious; Hermione could see it in his eyes. They held a mixture of fury and confusion. "And third, I never, not once, asked you to be my girlfriend. Yes, we've been spending a lot of time together, but never once did we discuss any sort of exclusivity."  
  
"But Harry, what about what we shared? Doesn't it mean anything to you?" Bianca asked, tears brimming in her eyes.  
  
"Can you honestly say that I'm the first person you shared that with?" he asked her.  
  
"No," she dropped her eyes to the table. A solitary tear flew down her cheek.  
  
"Bianca, I don't want to hurt you, but I don't love you. And this has nothing to do with Hermione coming here tonight. I wanted to be alone tonight because I wanted to think about our relationship. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I'll say it now since you're here. I don't think we should se each other on a social level any more. You are a beautiful, smart, bold and independent woman, but you just weren't meant for me. I'm sorry."  
  
Bianca, realizing her state of dress in front of Harry and Hermione, was suddenly very self-conscience. She wrapped her arms around her chest, trying to hide both her visible breasts and her shame.  
  
"I'm sorry too, Harry. I'm sorry I could never be what you needed. I'm sorry I couldn't live up to her. Goodbye."  
  
Bianca stood and retreated into the den. Seconds later, she could be heard apparating away.  
  
Harry sat in the seat next to Hermione's and rested his forehead on his hands.  
  
"What exactly was she talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked him.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"What did you two share?"  
  
"Erm. Okay, what you have to understand, Hermione, is that I thought you loved Ron and not me. Hell, you two were living together."  
  
"We're roommates, that's it!"  
  
"How was I supposed to know? Last I heard, you two were madly in love."  
  
"Just tell me what you two shared. I want to hear you say it. I think I deserve it."  
  
"Oh you think you deserve it? Then tell me, what did you do to deserve anything from me? You're the one with the screwed up timing to tell me you love me. I told you about my feelings before the situation got complicated, and you had to wait until everything was royally messed up!"  
  
Hermione bowed her head in shame. Harry was right, as he had been since the day he left. He owed her nothing. On the contrary, she was the one who owed him. He put his feelings for her out there a long time ago, and all she did was trample them.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry. Your right, you don't owe me anything. I'll just go."  
  
She stood to leave, but as she passed Harry, he grabbed her elbow and gently spun her around to face him.  
  
"Don't do anything rash, Hermione. I'll tell you what you want to know, but you have to keep an open mind about the situation."  
  
She turned and looked into his eyes. She could see the love and concern in his emerald green oceans he called eyes.  
  
"Just please, don't go."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere, Harry," she reassured him.  
  
He gestured toward the couch in the den. As he sat next to her, staring into her eyes, he couldn't help but notice the reflection of the fire dancing in her chocolate orbs. In that moment, she was absolutely radiant, even more so than at the Yule Ball in fourth year. That seemed like a million years ago.  
  
Harry roused himself from his musing. If this was going to work, he had to reveal the true nature of his relationship with Bianca. He didn't want to keep anything from Hermione. He wanted her to be able to trust him fully, like the trees trust the in sun. He wanted to be her source of life. She had been his for so long, even if those feelings and desires went unrequited for that entire time.  
  
"Hermione," he began," when I first arrived in Italy, I was absolutely lost. Here I was, seventeen-year-old Harry Potter, finally free from his dreadful relatives. And what's worse, I was all alone in a strange country. I didn't even speak the language here. I honestly still don't know what the hell I'm saying half the time. My best friend, the only woman I ever loved was dating my other best friend, had been for about ten months." Harry face was turned toward Hermione, urgently begging her to understand his actions. "Then, when I finally meet my teammates, one of them took the time to help teach me Italian, she showed me around the town, translated for me when I needed." Harry sighed, this was becoming much harder than he thought it would be. "She was there for me, Hermione. No, I didn't love her, but I never expected the one I did love to ever tell me the words I longed to hear from her. Maybe I'm weak; maybe I'm selfish, I don't know. When she seduced me, I didn't put up much of a fight."  
  
"So you two were intimate together?" Hermione asked calmly.  
  
"Yes," was Harry's remorseful reply. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I knew better. The whole time I kept telling myself that it was wrong, but I kept picturing you with Ron and. . . I don't know. I just wanted something to take the pain away."  
  
"And did she do that for you, Harry?"  
  
"No. When it was over, the pain was worse. I just didn't know what to do at that point. I learned that you and Ron were rooming together in London and I figured that I might as well give it a shot with Bianca. I thought that any slim chance I might have had to be with you was gone."  
  
Tears began to pool in Hermione's eyes. She literally forced him into the arms of another woman. Why did she have to try to be noble?  
  
"Harry, look at me." She placed a finger under his chin and gently lifted his face until she held his gaze. "Everything that has happened is now in the past. I don't want to focus on it. I want to look at the present and the future. Can we do that?"  
  
"Can we?" Harry repeated.  
  
"I would really like to, Harry."  
  
"Me too," he muttered while slowly raising his hand to graze her porcelain cheek. "But I've hurt you so much, Hermione."  
  
"Harry, I know that I'm not the only one here hurting. I've been hurting you since second year at Hogwarts. Lucky for both of us that we're each good at forgiveness."  
  
Harry gave Hermione a slightly lopsided grin. "I've missed you so much, Hermione."  
  
"I've missed you too, Harry. I've missed you more than you can fathom."  
  
Harry leaned forward and Hermione did the same, closing the seemingly canyon sized gap in between the two. It was far better than Harry remembered. He had held on to the memory of that kiss ever since the moment. This moment, however, lacked the bitter sweetness of the previous kiss. This time, Hermione loved him, Harry. This time, she was going to be snuggling with him on the couch, not Ron.  
  
Harry's mind began to reel in the sheer lusciousness of the kiss. The unquenched desire between the two souls was tangible in their lips. Harry could literally feel the love and emotions leaving Hermione's body and entering his through their physical connection.  
  
All too soon, the kiss was over. Harry rested his forehead on Hermione's, both panting for breath but neither wanting to speak in fear of waking from a cruel dream.  
  
Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence. "How can this work?"  
  
Hermione simply smiled. "We've come this far. Harry, I love you, and I know that you love me too. That is all that matters. You'll finish out the quidditch season, I'll stay here with you, and after the season is over, we'll see where we go from there."  
  
Harry kissed her forehead. "You always were the one who had it all figured out."  
  
"Believe me, Harry, I didn't have this figured out for a long time," she gestured between Harry and herself."  
  
"So, you're going to live with me? What about Ron, or your job?"  
  
"Well, I'll still help Ron pay for the apartment, seeing as you really don't need any extra money. As far as work goes, your connected to the British floo network, so I can either do that or aparate."  
  
"See, I told you. You have it all figured out."  
  
She pulled him closer to her. Looking deeper into his eyes, she breathlessly whispered, "See if you can figure this out."  
  
Without any more warning, she pressed her lips against his fiercely. This kiss was different from the earlier. Harry could taste the passion and desire flowing from Hermione. The air cracked with emotion.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said rather huskily in mid-kiss.  
  
"Yes," Harry managed to whisper without breaking their connection.  
  
"Take me upstairs."  
  
Shocked, Harry pulled away and looked at Hermione intently. "What?" he asked.  
  
"I want you to take me upstairs."  
  
Harry gently guided Hermione to her feet. He then raised his hand before him and Hermione was lifted into the air. Harry levitated her directly into his outstretched arms. He carried her up the lavishly decorated spiral staircase and into the master bedroom. Hermione gave a small, barely audible gasp at the size and design of the bedroom.  
  
"Its just like at Hogwarts," Harry heard her whisper to herself.  
  
He continued to his giant four-poster. He gently laid her down and caressed her cheek softly.  
  
"Are you sure, Hermione?"  
  
"I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life."  
  
Harry leaned down and planted another passionate kiss.  
  
That night was the best of his life. Hermione was everything he had ever imagined. A few hours later, he was lying in his bed with Hermione snuggling up close to him. She was fast asleep, but Harry was just content to watch his love.  
  
It had been a long road, he thought, but the destination had truly been worth the journey.  
  
~~~  
  
Fin  
  
Thanks to all of my reviewers. I'm sorry for the delay in this final chapter again. I'm just finding it harder and harder to write HarryHermione stories. This was the first and surely my last attempt at one of those.  
  
Again, thanks to all of my reviewers, especially those who reviewed on a regular basis (you know who you are).  
  
Check out my new fiction "The Unwanted Hero." Chapter one is currently posted. Thanks again.  
  
TTFN 


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